


Wallpaper Boy

by khattikeri



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Chatting & Messaging, Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Persona 5: The Royal Spoilers, Pining, Teenage Stupidity, aka the fic where akira is in denial and sumi wingmans for her stupid stupid senpai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27391381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khattikeri/pseuds/khattikeri
Summary: "...Youdiddelete it, right?" Akechi's voice was bashfully nervous, but there was an undertone of a threat in there somewhere that sent a thrill up Akira's spine.Akira glanced at his phone screen, thumb hovering over the trash icon.He saved the image as his wallpaper."Yeah," Akira lied, pocketing the phone. "Too blurry."=Or, an AU where Akiradoestake a picture of Akechi when his hair is ruffled up.
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 53
Kudos: 392
Collections: Marigolds Discord Recs





	Wallpaper Boy

**Author's Note:**

> i can't get the mental image of ruffled hair!akechi out of my head. gods help me. this entire game and this ship specifically has me in a vice grip. royal gave me so much pain.
> 
> compliant with most of canon but has additional scenes that diverges from royal. this fic is me saying "fuck roundabout thinly deniable declarations of love and devotion, i want them to kiss". i also consider the unused rehab event scene to be 100% canon, so there's that too.
> 
> also: implied makoto/eiko, implied ohya/kayo, implied futaba/sumire, kinda ooc sumi, and inaba!akira. i didn't tag any of them because they're only barely mentioned if at all, but i figure it's important that yall know.
> 
> SERIOUS warning for gratuitously cheesy fluff, friendship, and romance. i mean it. this stuff is cavity inducing. at least it was to me akldfjkdls it's indulgent
> 
> anyway um,,,,, [maruki voice] i want them 2 be happy

“A shame I don’t have glasses like you,” Akechi thought aloud. “Maybe I would have been able to get out of this situation.”

Akira paused, then stood up. “...Come here a sec.”

Akechi blinked. “Huh? Hey, wait, what are you--?!”

A mischievous grin curled up on Akira’s face as he dragged Akechi away from their cafe table, the other boy stammering out half-hearted protests all the while.

“Really now,” Akechi sounded equal parts curious and irritated when they finally stopped, now closer to the alley beside the building proper. It wasn’t sketchy or even exactly private, per se-- it was actually a decently lit spot, which made Akira’s shiny idea feel all the more bright. “What are you planning on doing t-- ah, _Kurusu-kun!”_

It felt exhilarating to break unspoken social rules, to break his own carefully crafted Nonthreatening Quiet Boy image; it was practically comparable to the thrill of fighting in Mementos or in Palaces. Akira took glee in the sheer rebellion of threading his fingers in Akechi’s soft, pretty, camera-perfect hair and then making a mess of it.

“W-What are you doing?!” Akechi sputtered, reddening.

Akira took off his glasses and quickly put them on Akechi’s face with one hand, not quite caring about precision-- time was of essence. He grabbed his phone out with his other hand as fast as he could, grinning all the while.

Akechi’s eyes widened in disbelief. _“Kurusu-kun--”_

“Say cheese, Akechi-kun~” Akira teased, and then took the picture.

It's no wonder girls constantly fawn over him, Akira thought as he stared at the photo. Akechi’s brows were upturned with embarrassed worry, eyes shining, mouth slightly agape. Akira’s glasses were skewed on him, tilted at a terrible angle and half-sliding off. Akechi’s right hand was raised halfway up to his face, clearly attempting to hide it from the camera. Akechi’s cheeks were flushed bright red, flustered and-- and looking practically _debauched_ with how ruffled up his hair is from what Akira did to him.

The real Akechi, meanwhile, was mortified.

“Get rid of that!” Akechi squeaked. _Squeaked._ It was delightful. He made a distressed, guttural sound before collecting himself-- clearly unwilling to make a scene over the situation out of pride, self-preservation, or some twisted combination of the two. “I’m serious, please, I-- I _really_ don’t want those sorts of pictures of me floating around online--”

“I’d never do that,” Akira shook his head, understanding. Negative attention was something he already knew plenty about firsthand. “Never. Wouldn’t dream of it.”

"...You _did_ delete it, right?" Akechi's voice was bashfully nervous, but there was an undertone of a threat in there somewhere that sent a thrill up Akira's spine.

Akira glanced at his phone screen, thumb hovering over the trash icon.

He saved the image as his wallpaper.

"Yeah," Akira lied, pocketing the phone. "Too blurry."

Somewhere in Akira’s head, a voice that sounded suspiciously like Morgana’s screamed ceaselessly at him. He waved it away, smiling at Akechi. “Anyway… this should work as a disguise, right?”

Akechi stewed in silent fury as they walked back and sat down at their table again. Sure enough, the fawning passersby convinced themselves that it wasn’t actually Akechi they were looking at, and left the pair alone.

“I can’t believe you did that,” Akechi huffed, combing through his hair with his fingers in vain.

“It worked, though,” Akira beamed, chin in his hand.

“I also can’t believe that your glasses are fake,” Akechi commented airily, taking the glasses off of his face and returning them. “I had my suspicions, but you really don’t need them to see, do you?”

“Ah…” Akira blinked, surprised. _He caught me._

“You don’t need to explain why, of course,” Akechi continued. “Although…” He looked thoughtful. “...No, never mind.”

“Go ahead,” Akira prompted. “I want to hear your deduction.”

Akechi hummed, tapping a finger against the side of his cup. “I was thinking that you were offering your own disguise to me, in a way, by both making my hair messy and giving me your glasses. It’s presumptuous of me to assume, and granted, I was the one who brought up the topic of wearing glasses to avoid fans to start with, but...” he trailed off.

 _I can’t believe there are people out there legitimately convinced that you’re just some vapid, airheaded prettyboy shoved in front of a camera,_ Akira marveled internally. Externally, he hid a smile behind his hand, eyes gleaming. “They don’t call you a detective for nothing, do they?”

Akechi didn’t dismiss or downplay the praise, but cleared his throat nonetheless. “At any rate… it seems our coffee has gone cold. Shall we order new ones?”

=

The next morning, Morgana’s eye caught onto Akira’s new home screen.

“Are you CRAZY?!” Morgana yowled. “What’s so good about him?! Put up a picture of Lady Ann or a sushi platter or something! A picture of something likeable! Even a photo of Ryuji sweating in a field would be better!”

 _He **is** likeable, _Akira wanted to retort-- but he kept his mouth shut and hummed. “We had fun, so I wanted a memory, I guess.” Not entirely a lie.

Morgana flicked his tail. “Does he even know that you kept the picture and set it as your wallpaper?”

Akira had the decency to look ashamed. “...No.”

“AKIRA!” Morgana wailed, leaping down from the bed. “You’re gonna get caught one day! I know it!”

“It’ll be alright,” Akira placated him absently. “Besides, you’re the only other person who knows about it.”

“Mmmh…” Morgana’s ears twitched, dubious. “I dunno, Akira…”

“It’s just a wallpaper,” Akira yawned, buttoning the jacket of his school uniform and pulling at his bangs. “It’s not like I’ll be spending all day staring at it.”

=

“Kurusu-kun, you’ve been staring at your phone all of class,” Kawakami raised a brow.

Morgana thumped against Akira from inside his schoolbag, as if to say _‘I told you so’._ Akira subtly poked back, as if to say _‘Shut up’._ “I can explain, sensei.”

They were in the faculty office. Kawakami had eased up quite a bit over the months between Akira’s transfer and the present, thanks to her drama with Takase’s foster parents-- something Akira was now grateful for, because it would’ve been kinda bad if anyone in class, especially Ann, knew he was distracted on his phone.

Kawakami sighed. “No need for explanations or excuses. If you have a cute girlfriend, you can hold off on seeing her face until after class.”

Akira blinked. “Girlfriend?”

Kawakami blinked back, then scoffed. “I’m not blind, kid. You weren’t typing or anything, so you were clearly just staring at her picture. Young love is great and all, but you should be focusing on your education. We’re in the final stretch before exams and summer vacation, y’know?”

Akira shoved away the fuzzy feeling in his chest. “Sensei, I-- I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend then,” Kawakami muttered under her breath. “What do I know.”

“I don’t--”

“Whatever it is,” Kawakami interrupted gently, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, “please focus in class as much as you can.”

=

“I must say, Akira,” Yusuke frowned from the other side of the boat. “Your photography skills leave much to be desired.”

Akira whirled around and had to physically stop himself from leaping at Yusuke and yanking his phone out of the artist’s sight.

He couldn’t have the boat capsizing. Yusuke’s art supplies would get wet, for one. But Akira also didn’t have the photo backed up, and if his phone waterlogged, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.

Yusuke tapped an index finger against his chin, then made photo frames with his hands. He shook his head. “I cannot abide by this. If you ever get a chance to retake your wallpaper photo, do so with utmost haste. I may not be a photographer, but there is something off about this photograph’s composition that I must speak up about as a painter and artist.”

“Uh-huh,” Akira croaked. “Sure thing. Totally.”

“I’m glad you understand,” Yusuke said solemnly, placing a hand on Akira’s shoulder. “And for the record,” he whispered, “I won’t say anything about your choice of subject matter to the others.”

And just like that, Akira lost about another ten years of his life.

=

Watching Akechi and Yoshizawa talk about him like he hadn’t been sitting right there in the cafe with them was awkward, but then again, it was weirder finding out that Akechi and Yoshizawa knew each other.

Akira thought back to the almost jealous way he’d asked about their so-called ‘history’ and cringed.

“Senpai?” Yoshizawa called from beside him. “You’re… making a face.”

“Ah…” Akira winced. “Sorry. I got lost in thought.

Yoshizawa smiled. “That reminds me… You and Akechi-san both seemed a little off-put by the fact that I knew you both beforehand. Is there any reason why?”

Akira blinked. “Well, not exactly...” This was weird. Why did his chest feel weird?

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Yoshizawa covered her mouth with a hand. “I shouldn’t have assumed anything--”

“Don’t sweat it,” Akira shook his head. He pulled out his phone, making note of the time. “It’s getting late… Do you want me to walk you home?”

“That’s okay!” Yoshizawa insisted. “It’s not too far from here, and there’s a long time before the trains stop.” The sun was barely setting; still, Akira didn’t feel comfortable leaving a girl to walk by herself.

Akira frowned. “I won’t insist, but…”

Yoshizawa giggled. “I mean it, I’ll be fine.” She pulled out her phone. “I’ll call my father to let him know I’m on my way back, so--” She stopped mid-sentence, furiously poking her phone. Her brows furrowed.

“...Yoshizawa-san?”

“It’s not--” Yoshizawa bit her lip in frustration, then sighed. “My phone’s acting up again…”

“You can use mine,” Akira offered, typing in his password and handing it over to her without hesitation. Only when Yoshizawa held it in her hands did he realize his mistake. “Oh, crap, wait--”

“Oh, my,” Yoshizawa’s eyes widened. She covered a knowing smile with her hand again. “I think I understand.”

“It isn’t what it looks like,” Akira tried, knowing full well that it would not at all convince Yoshizawa otherwise.

“Romantic jealousy is fascinating,” Yoshizawa muttered under her breath.

Akira choked on nothing. “It-- It _really_ isn’t like that, Akechi doesn’t even know I kept this picture, this was like, last week--”

“Your secret’s safe with me, senpai!” Yoshizawa mimed zipping her lips, then dialled her father.

=

Akira stared at the fish in the Shinagawa Aquarium.

He’d always liked fish. Not as much as he liked cats, but fish had their own weird charm. Aquariums were fun to go through and watch because of it.

Akira puffed up his cheeks, mimicking the small school swimming past him, then smiled foolishly to himself. He was glad Akechi had invited him here.

After a while of gazing, Akira turned to Akechi. The other boy was tapping on his phone; he looked up and immediately put it away when Akira neared.

“Did you see my screen?” Akechi questioned, on edge. The look on his face was reminiscent of a deer in headlights.

“No, you put it away pretty fast,” Akira replied honestly. “Something the matter?” _Like things relating to the Metaverse?_

“Just…” Akechi hesitated, then shook his head, shoulders relieved of tension. “Just a work obligation. But never mind that. Shall we?”

_...I don’t like that._

Akira was going to nod when Ohya interrupted them. “Ooh, I thought I recognized those glasses! It really is you--” She noticed Akechi. “And with the second detective prince?”

“Keep it quiet, please,” Akira implored, shifting his eyes warily. He couldn’t let Akechi get mobbed by fans while they were out on a--

Huh. What _was_ this, anyway?

“This is pretty rare,” Ohya lowered her voice. “You’re with Akechi-kun?”

“I invited him out,” Akechi smiled politely. “We’re fairly close, after all.” He looked her up and down. “And you are, um…?”

“Oh! My bad,” Ohya reached into her bag and pulled out a business card. “I’m a reporter. Kurusu-kun helps me out with my articles sometimes.”

“He does have a habit of befriending and helping people out of nowhere, doesn’t he,” Akechi made a wry expression, pocketing the business card after a glance.

“I’m right here,” Akira mumbled fruitlessly.

“I wouldn’t have expected Kurusu-kun to be friends with the Detective Prince, though!” Ohya marveled. “You both have opposing views of the Phantom Thieves and all.” She raised a brow cheekily. “How about an interview?”

Akira shook his head. “That’s a bit too personal.”

“Teasing, teasing,” Ohya waved him off. She paused. “But anyway… Shinagawa Aquarium is a popular date spot among teenagers these days,” Ohya looked back and forth at the two of them inquisitively, her keen eye twinkling with an oddly knowing look. “So I didn’t expect…”

 _Date spot…?_ Akira’s hand twitched. He flicked his gaze to Akechi; for a brief, imperceptible moment, Akechi had stiffened.

_Wait, doesn’t Akechi usually spend his free time biking and scoping out popular places so he can talk about them? There’s no way he wouldn’t have known about that..._

Akira’s face turned pink. _No, he wouldn’t. Akechi couldn’t possibly..._ “Like he said, we hang out often,” he replied.

“Reminds me of myself and Kayo, back in the day,” Ohya murmured with a nostalgic grin. She shrugged. “I may be a no-good paparazzo, but I don’t pry into the lives of high school kids. Have fun, you two.”

Both Akira and Akechi let out exhales as Ohya waved goodbye and walked elsewhere.

They looked at each other, then pointedly away.

“Let’s go to the next area,” Akechi suggested, and Akira was glad to take him up on it.

=

“I still think you’re gonna get caught,” Morgana whispered on the train back to Yongen-Jaya.

“We’ve been to the Jazz Club and the arcade now without Akechi even seeing my phone,” Akira whispered back, genuinely at ease.

Akechi put him at ease. That was interesting. Normally, Akira just kept quiet and let people talk at him, but… with Akechi, he felt more included in conversation. Akechi didn’t _want_ anything from him but friendship, and Akechi seemed to give back that friendship in turn. Seeing other sides of Akechi like the jazz club, or him wanting to be a hero as a child, or the face he made when Akira let loose and messed up his hair--

It was nice.

Morgana made a warning noise. “Akira…”

“It’ll be fine, Mona.”

=

Ryuji had failed at picking up girls. Yusuke had succeeded at picking up lobsters. Futaba had been able to have a good time at the beach.

Akira stared at his home screen, now in bed in Leblanc’s attic, and sighed.

His phone rang all of a sudden; Akira nearly dropped it in his fumbling before he caught the name. He accepted the call. “Futaba?”

 _“How long are you going to stare at that stupid detective boy’s face?”_ Futaba demanded.

Akira whirled around, checking in every direction. “You have the attic bugged too?” he asked incredulously.

_“I’ve been watching you make moony-eyes at him for a while now, actually. Since like, the end of June? Early July? Whenever you had that cafe date. You do it to your phone screen and whenever he actually comes over to Leblanc. And before you say anything, I know you make kissy faces at the picture too, so don’t even try to lie.”_

Akira groaned, scarlet. “Please don’t tell anyone,” he ran a hand over his face and through his curls in frustration. “Or post the picture anywhere.”

_“Relax. Actually, I already went through your whole phone’s search history and data way back before you even met me, so it’s not like I hadn’t seen the picture before. I just think it’s weird how often you stare at it like you’re some shoujo romcom--”_

“Don’t finish that sentence.”

_“Aye aye, Leader!”_

=

“Thanks for inviting us to this net cafe,” Makoto beamed.

“It looks really modern,” Ann praised, kicking her feet lazily under her barstool.

“It’s sleek,” Akira acknowledged. “Figured you could both get work done here if you wanted somewhere quiet to focus.”

“I appreciate it,” Makoto smiled. She looked around. “I should bring Eiko here sometime,” she mused. “It might throw her off for a change.”

Ann tilted her head. “Eiko?”

“The friend who wanted me to do purikura, remember?” Makoto pulled out her phone, showing Ann and Akira a photo of herself and Eiko with--

“How’d you get the cat ears and whiskers and stuff?” Akira blinked curiously, now much more alert. He leaned in, squinting to inspect the photo. “App filter?”

“Eiko begged me to get SNOW or even Snapchat, but it’s too much of a data privacy risk,” Makoto shook her head with a smile. “And since I don’t go out enough for us to be able to take normal purikura… well, Ann showed me this photo editing software to make older pictures look like purikura.”

“It has stickers, filters, everything!” Ann gushed. “There’s an app for it, but the quality comes out better if you use it on a PC. I know you’re a boy and all, but you’re not like Ryuji--” Ann made a face, then continued-- “and you won’t tell me it’s dumb girly nonsense or whatever.”

“It’s actually fairly simple; all you have to do is take the transparent sticker files that you want, and--” Makoto paused, then chuckled. “Ah… Sorry, I sound awfully like Futaba, don’t I…”

“It’s fine, Makoto!” Ann laughed. “You worry too much. It’s good to see you passionate.”

“Yeah,” Akira replied absently. He wasn’t really listening anymore.

_I can give fluffy wallpaper Akechi cat ears and whiskers._

“Akira, um--” Makoto, ever perceptive to when Akira’s brain was running on overdrive, tilted her head. “I can show you…?”

“Yes, please,” Akira blurted. “Er--” he fidgeted with his hair, realizing how desperate that sounded. “Thanks. If you would.”

Ann narrowed her eyes, a knowing grin set upon her face. “Oho? I sense something suspicious about Akiraaaa!”

“A friend back home likes these sort of things,” Akira lied. He didn’t have friends back home. Inaba was more like a cesspool of small-town nonsense than a home to him.

But what the Thieves didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them.

“Oh, I see!” Ann didn’t ask any further questions. She leaned in closer, eager to explain. “Alright, lemme show you the basics…”

=

“Go to sleep early,” Sojiro warned him.

Akira blinked. Well, _that_ was new. Usually, Sojiro just gave the usual lock-up speech. “Okay?”

Sojiro shook his head, clicking his tongue. “I’m no fool, kid. You think Futaba just wiretapped this place for fun? I asked her to do it. Lately, you’ve been staying up late at night doing god knows what with your laptop--”

Oh. Akira’s cheeks turned pink. So even Sojiro had caught on to his purikura sticker photo editing shenanigans.

“--and these days even in the cafe you’re only incredibly focused when that detective boy is over when you ought to be attentive to _all_ the customers,” Sojiro continued chiding. He grumbled. “You didn’t even catch most of that, did you.”

“I’ll sleep early, Boss,” Akira turned with a small smile. “And pay more attention.”

“You better, kid,” Sojiro grumbled, patting Akira on the back. He sighed. “Your well-being matters more than you think it does.”

=

“Should I keep the cat ear and whisker one as my wallpaper, or the original…” Akira mumbled aloud.

Twin photos of Akechi stared back at Akira with identical flustered faces. The only difference was that one had pastel pink cat ears on the head, a round oval over the nose, and three whiskers on each of the bright red cheeks.

Akechi’s face turned equally as red in bathhouses, as it turned out. And he was a nervous rambler who tended to overshare before he knew it and got lost in thought. He must’ve talked a lot as a kid, Akira thought, before he’d been worn down and trained for the banal formality of detective work and TV appearances. An eager chatterbox of a child, running around playing hero with toy ray guns and radiating a smile like sunshine. It was cute to picture.

The photos kept staring, as if flustered further by Akira’s pining, overzealous imagination.

“Keep one as his contact picture and the other as your home screen,” Morgana grumbled from where he was curled up on the bed. “Sheesh, it’s not like looking at every pixel will change your mind.” He pawed at Akira’s face. “Now go to sleep.”

Akira blinked. It was… actually a solid idea. He saved the whisker edit as Akechi’s contact photo, keeping the original as his home screen wallpaper.

Akira went to sleep with a smile.

=

Akechi was going to betray him.

The boy Akira trusted, thought he had a connection with, spent time with as rivals… was going to frame him. Just like the people who sent him on probation to begin with.

Akira couldn’t register a single word Futaba was saying. Her voice just swam in and out of his ears, a mere passing visit to his head as she spouted off bullet point after bullet point of plans they had to consider.

That night, when Akira closed down the apps he’d been using all day and was finally met with Akechi’s starstruck expression again, he couldn’t even bring himself to stare.

He turned off his phone and closed his eyes, trying to reconcile what that flushed face must’ve looked like as it plotted Akira’s death behind his back.

=

“You’re my rival,” Akira said plainly.

Join forces with Akechi? How laughable. Running away from everything together sounded nice, but he wouldn’t abandon his goals, even for a boy whose photo he’d spent a concerning amount of time gazing at like some lovestruck fool.

They were rivals. He already _was_ joined to Akechi.

From how pleased Akechi’s response was, the other boy seemed to think the same way. It was no surprise that several days later, Akechi challenged him to a battle in Mementos.

The weight of Akechi’s glove in his pocket, the weight of that whole declaration of rivalry--

Akira patched up his injuries from their Metaverse fight and set his jaw. He’d accepted the duel.

He ignored his phone the entire rest of the night.

=

November 20th, 2016. The interrogation and escape plan came and went.

 _What’s one more stab to the heart if I’m already bruised and beaten half to death,_ Akira thought bitterly, turning on his phone and allowing the blue light to wash over his face. _Worst comes to worst, I can blame the drugs for a stupid decision like this._

Akechi’s flustered face stared back at him.

Akira gaped, fingers trembling over the trash can icon for the first time in months. The lump in his throat wouldn’t go away.

_Should I…?_

He should. Anyone and their mother would tell him to delete it and move on.

But then again… Kurusu Akira had always hated being obedient.

“...Stupid,” Akira mumbled, and then placed his phone on the windowsill to charge before turning over to sleep.

=.

December 2nd, 2016.

His eyes were red, his vision was blurry, and his phone screen was covered in tear splatters. Akechi stared back at him with all the ordinary emotions a teenager with ruffled hair, skewed glasses, and a face redder than a tomato could muster.

Akira muffled his sobs with his hand. Akechi had been a _kid,_ a high schooler just like the rest of them.

Why did it all come to this?

=

After the world rained blood and flesh, after eldritch bones jutted out from the concrete like newly-sprouted weeds, after his and his friends’ existences were erased and revived, after he was given the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of shooting a god in the face on Christmas--

After all of that, seeing Akechi Goro the same night should’ve been an ordinary walk in the park. Instead, it rendered Akira speechless. His slack-jawed surprise even had Akechi smirking.

“You-- You’re alive!” Akira’s face broke into a grin of relief, limbs twitching with the urge to tackle Akechi into a hug in public. Only Niijima Sae’s presence stopped him, really.

Maybe Christmas miracles were real, after all.

=

_The morning of New Year’s Day, Morgana was human and Isshiki Wakaba was still alive. And Futaba and Boss both acted like it was completely normal. Is this normal? What is going on?_

Akira bunched himself up into a ball, sitting on one of Leblanc’s barstools and nervously sipping coffee as he debilitated whether or not he’d officially gone insane. Morgana, Wakaba, Sojiro, and Futaba chatted merrily in a booth, utterly oblivious to Akira’s horror.

_A stroke? Is this a stroke? Is that what this is?_

The bell to Leblanc’s door chimed with the entry of a new customer. Akira met Akechi’s gaze and promptly spat out his coffee.

Akechi’s eyes were baggy and tired, his face worn in a neutral frown that quirked up into something almost akin to a sneer. Akechi marched directly towards Akira and hauled him up from the chair by his shirt collar.

“Wh-- Wait a minute,” Akira stammered, fumbling to set his mug of coffee down on the bar. “W-Wait, Ake-- wh-- what are you--”

“I’m borrowing him,” Akechi nodded curtly at the others, and then continued to drag Akira out.

=

Akechi closed the door to the laundromat and tapped his foot impatiently.

“Please tell me you’re normal,” Akira blurted, half-hysterical. “What the hell is going on--”

Akechi blinked at him, then sighed, rubbing his temple. “I was hoping _you_ could tell _me_ that. One minute I was being interrogated, and the next they send me off scot-free with no more questions.”

“Isshiki Wakaba is alive,” Akira babbled, relieved that at least one person on the planet was sane. “Futaba and Boss think that her being alive is normal, Haru and Makoto both think that their fathers being alive is normal, Ryuji’s with his track team and Ann has Shiho and Yusuke has Madarame and _my cat turned into a flirty human being who woke up in bed with me--”_

“Breathe,” Akechi raised a brow. Akira breathed.

“There’s not much to say on my end. Jazz Jin turned into a classical orchestra hall,” Akechi mourned, the slightest hint of a pout on his face. “And Shido is arrested and in jail for treason relating to the elections.” He sighed again.

“This is hell,” Akira whispered.

“It is,” Akechi agreed. “A disgusting place far-removed from our universe.” He bit his lip. “If my theory is right… We’re in some alternate reality. I’ll make this quick.”

=

Joining forces with Akechi after all, then. Cool. Cool cool cool.

Akira had always seen glimpses of the real Akechi beneath all the politeness in their original universe, but seeing him completely dropping his walls was new. He was so much more… blunt.

“Because all of your friends are certainly as close to you as they were in our original universe,” Akechi scoffed, rolling his eyes.

And yeah-- yeah, it stung a bit. Akechi wasn’t even _wrong._ That was the worst part. Akira really wasn’t needed much anymore, was he?

The three of them-- Akira, Akechi, and Yoshizawa-- entered the Palace.

Unsavory revelations aside, seeing Akechi in his Black Mask persona was interesting-- he was much more hostile to this place than Joker had initially thought. At the very least, Joker supposed it was pretty funny seeing Yoshizawa’s horrified expression. She had been in Niijima Sae’s palace as well; she must’ve been expecting Akechi’s prince outfit.

“Has he always been this ruthless?” Yoshizawa squeaked.

“Yup,” Joker sighed fondly. “Just everyday Akechi.”

Yoshizawa gaped at him. “Senpai, is there something wrong with you?”

“Hm?”

“Like, mentally,” Yoshizawa narrowed her eyes. “You _like_ that?”

Joker blinked out of his reverie. “What does ‘like’ have to do with it?”

Yoshizawa looked absolutely flabbergasted. “It’s been _six months,_ senpai. Did you not-- did you and Akechi-san not even--”

“Did Joker and I not even what?” Crow asked, miffed. He slung his rapier back in place, tilting his head.

“Nothing! Nothing at all,” Yoshizawa gave a painful, obviously feigned grimace.

Crow tsked. “Let’s get a move on. Unless you can’t handle exploring around with a _ruthless_ person,” he quipped.

=

Joker had missed the MonaBus. It had been so _long_ since they’d all been back together, having quirky conversations while in the Metaverse.

“Uughh, I hate that word,” Crow scowled, cheek squished against the side of the bus from how crowded it was inside with Violet now added to the group. She had brought up pancakes and other cafe sweets as a conversation starter; almost everyone else had to stop themselves from giggling uncontrollably.

“Hey, the pancakes didn’t commit any crimes!” Panther laughed.

“Everyone set your calendars for June 9,” Mona teased.

Joker could barely stifle a snicker. “The first anniversary of Crow replying to a talking cat, huh...”

Violet blinked. “Is there something I’m missing, or…?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Crow muttered, sulking petulantly. “It was dumb.”

“Indeed,” Fox snorted, a tad smug. “It was your own undoing, Crow.”

“Pancakes…” Crow grimaced further. “I don’t want to hear that word again for a long, long time.”

Skull, the pinnacle of maturity, chose to lean close and yell in Crow’s ear: “PANCAKES PANCAKES PANCAKES PANCAKES PANCA--”

Crow yelled, shoving Skull’s face. “Fucking shit, shut the fuck up, Skull--”

“Hey!” Queen whirled around sharply. “No cussing in front of the kids!”

“I’m not a baby! I’m turning sixteen in barely a month!” Oracle protested.

“As am I in two months!” Violet nodded fervently.

“Incoming curve!” Noir called out as she violently swerved the bus again, and the Phantom Thieves screamed as they all jostled against each other.

Joker took it back. He didn’t miss the MonaBus much at all.

(But when he turned to look at Crow and saw the other boy's uncontrollable face-splitting grin, genuinely having a good time-- well. Joker could at least admit to enjoying that.)

=

“I thought you’d say that,” Sumire admitted, taking the rejection in stride. “But it was still worth a shot, even if you’re in love with Akechi-san.”

Logically, Akira knew that Sumire must’ve figured it out fairly early on. Emotionally, his heart did a funny little flip upon hearing someone else acknowledge and call him out on his feelings.

“I--” Akira clamped his mouth shut, tugging on his bangs out of habit. “Mmh…”

Sumire laughed. “Aw, senpai, you’re embarrassed!”

“Am not,” Akira muttered, unable to hide the blush on his face.

“He totally is,” Morgana rolled his eyes from near the door, curled up in a patch of sunlight.

“You aren’t the type of person who makes a move first, though, are you?” Sumire smiled back knowingly. She sighed. “I was so _obvious,_ and yet you never said anything until I was ready…”

Akira shrugged. He just didn’t want to impose.

“At the rate you’re going, neither of you will admit a thing,” Sumire murmured to herself.

Akira’s phone pinged; he whipped it out to check. “Ah. Akechi’s coming over.”

Almost immediately after, the door to Leblanc opened, and Akechi strode in.

“Hello, Akechi-san,” Sumire turned to face him politely. Akechi gave her a curt nod.

“You should’ve texted when you _left,_ not right before arriving,” Akira chided, backing out of his texts.

“Whatever,” Akechi sighed, crossing his arms. “I wasn’t planning on staying long, anyway. Did that piece of garbage still not show up?”

“What are you talking about?” Morgana yawned. “You just arrived, didn’t you?”

“Get your goddamn cat neutered, Kurusu,” Akechi sneered.

“None of us have seen Maruki-sensei,” Sumire replied, voice louder so as to drown out Morgana’s angry screeches. She spun on her heel, tapping Akira on the shoulder.

Akira looked at her. “Hm?”

“I’m seriously sorry in advance, senpai,” Sumire mimed an unzipping motion on her lips, then gave him a small thumbs up. “But... I think this is for the best.”

“Huh?” Akira whispered, confused, but before he could ask her to elaborate, Sumire spoke up louder:

“Whoa, senpai!” Sumire peeked around Akira’s arm to look at his phone screen, furrowing her brows. “You _still_ have that picture of Akechi-san as your home screen? It’s been months!”

A strangled noise escaped Akira’s throat. “Sumire--?!”

Akechi blinked. “What picture?” he asked sharply.

“Oh, no! I cannot believe I let such an important secret slip! My apologies!” Sumire exclaimed robotically, completely and utterly devoid of any remotely apologetic emotion. “I must leave now! Goodbye!”

And then she walked out of Leblanc, leaving Akira with the fallout.

The fallout himself, Akechi, raised a brow. “What photo is she talking about?” He demanded. “And what does she mean, ‘still’?” Akechi briskly walked over and yanked Akira’s arm to look at the home screen. “What--” Akechi’s eyes bulged, and he let out a horrified shriek. “You told me you deleted this picture!”

“Eh-- ah, uh--” Akira fidgeted, fumbling and fiddling with his hair before biting his lip. “Yeah. I lied.”

“I told you you’d get caught one day!” Morgana yelled. He got up. “I can’t watch this. Deal with the consequences. I’m going to Futaba’s house.”

And then he trotted out the door, leaving Akira with the consequences of his actions.

Akechi let a hiss pass through his teeth, grimacing at the screen. “You even lied about it being blurry. I should’ve double-checked that you deleted it personally…”

“It’s too late now,” Akira shrugged, dipping his hands back into his coat pockets. “Knowing Futaba, she could’ve backed all my data to one of her spare external hard drives back a few months ago, so…”

Akechi was wide-eyed in fury, enraptured with the screen. Akira frowned. “Hey, Akechi--”

“This is from over _six months_ ago,” Akechi whispered, brows furrowing in conflicted disbelief. “And you kept the dumb thing as your home screen this whole time?”

“...Yeah,” Akira admitted.

Akechi’s bottom lip trembled furiously. “Even after what I did in Sae-san’s Palace back in November?”

“I did.”

Akechi whirled around to face Akira properly. “Even after the engine room?!”

Akechi’s text alert rang. It wasn’t the factory default ringtone that Akira had heard in Shujin’s gymnasium at the school festival-- now it was one of the more obnoxious sounding Featherman soundtrack titles.

“Um…?”

“It’s Futaba-chan,” Akechi informed, showing Akira the screen.

‘ _LMAO trust me u do NOT wanna see how long he spent staying up trying to work out how to photoshop the pic,’_ Futaba said. _‘o ya speaking of which check out ur pfp on his phone’._

Little sisters. Goddammit.

Akechi snatched Akira’s phone in the moment when he was reading Futaba’s text, ignoring Akira’s yelp and swiping through the contacts until he reached his own name.

A beat.

“...You edited cat ears and whiskers onto me,” Akechi accused flatly, not looking up from the phone.

“I plead the fifth,” Akira attempted.

“We’re in Japan.”

“We’re actually in Maruki’s alternate reality--”

“Mother _fuck,_ I’m gonna _strangle you--”_ Akechi snarled, then sighed, taking in a deep breath and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Coping. I’m coping…”

“I’m not sorry,” Akira said quietly. “It’d be dishonest to act like I regret it.”

Damning silence.

“...Who knew about this?” Akechi finally asked. “Other than Sumire-chan, Futaba-chan, and Morgana.”

Weird. He wasn’t even all that mad after his initial incredulity. Akira wondered why.

“Possibly Boss, because of Futaba,” Akira admitted. “And Yusuke saw the photo back in July and criticized my photography skills.” He grimaced. “My homeroom teacher thought I was looking at pictures of a girlfriend when she caught me zoning out in class.”

“You zoned out in class because of me,” Akechi preened a bit, seeming proud that he was the cause, but shook his head in disbelief nonetheless. “Unbelievable.”

“I--” It hit Akira then that this was the perfect chance to suck it up and admit his crush to Akechi. Possibly his _only_ chance, since it was the first of February and Maruki had yet to show up in the real world to receive the calling card. “Akechi, I--”

But he couldn’t get the words out, and then Akechi said his clippy goodbyes and left, and then February 2nd happened, and then February 3rd, and then Akechi was no longer anywhere.

March came and went, and Akira moved back to his hometown, no longer apprehensive of the temporary pains that came with loneliness, but still longing anyway.

=

June 2nd, 2017.

Against his best interest, Akira sent several texts at midnight. For some reason, they were still going through to Akechi’s number.

**Akira Kurusu**

happy 19th birthday, akechi 🎂 +

congrats on becoming elderly \\(^-^)/ +

**Akira Kurusu**

...I miss you +

**Akira Kurusu**

like, a lot +

...I still have your glove. +

I’m not afraid anymore, the way I was before Maruki +

and I know it’s mostly wishful thinking, but +

**Akira Kurusu**

I wish I could see you again. +

if you really are alive somehow, that is +

...on days like this, the wallpaper just isn’t enough. +

No response.

Akira rolled over on his childhood bed and sighed, deciding to sleep.

(Unbeknownst to him, the messages’ status changed to ‘READ’ the moment he looked away.)

=

June 9th, 2017.

Akira’s parents had left town on certain business earlier that morning, and wouldn’t be back til Monday. It wasn’t anything unusual.

What _was_ unusual was someone ringing the doorbell late in the evening while he was home alone.

“Go get it,” Morgana yawned sleepily.

“I just changed into my pajamas,” Akira grumbled.

“You got home hours ago,” Morgana nudged him. “You had the time to change before.”

Morgana wasn’t wrong. Akira was in the go-home club at Yasogami High-- not that it was a big deal, since he was a third year. Clubs didn’t matter as much as focusing on the future now. Career paths, college entrance exams… Well, Akira knew he wanted to go back to Tokyo, at the very least. Maybe work at Leblanc. College was a solid maybe; even then, he had no idea what sort of major would interest him.

But he had options, and time to choose, so everything was okay.

The doorbell rang again, and Akira startled. “Sorry, I’m coming!” he called out, bounding down the stairs. He clicked his tongue softly at his clothes; a ratty old T-shirt of Grey Pigeon from Phoenix Ranger Featherman R Series 5 and gray sweatpants. Nothing he could do about it now. He hoped the guest wouldn’t care.

 _It’s weird._ Akira picked up the pace, lest whoever was at the door ring the doorbell again and get snippy with him. _I didn’t order food delivery for anything. None of us bought anything online. I didn’t make any new enemies or light up fires under all the old ones who are still in town. Probably._

_So who could it be?_

He cautiously opened the door.

A young man with short brown hair stood before him. He was wearing skinny jeans, an untucked white button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and a single black glove on his left hand. He fidgeted with the ends of his hair; the motion of his hand drew Akira’s gaze to the young man’s eyes-- dark reddish-brown, bright, and so familiar--

Akira blinked. One split second, and then his eyes widened in shock. “You--”

Akechi Goro smiled nervously at him. “Hey.”

Akira bodyslammed him.

 _“Ack--!”_ Akechi grunted, stumbling as Akira’s body weight collided with him full force.

“YOU--” Akira scrambled, hands shakily grabbing both of Akechi’s cheeks. “You’re--”

“I’m real, yes,” Akechi coughed to the side. “And alive.”

“You could’ve texted me the past four months!” Akira scolded him-- though given the wide grin cracking his face, it didn’t register as a real scolding to either of them.

Akechi pried Akira’s hands off of his face. “I think you embarrassing yourself on the first anniversary of the day we met is a good counter,” he suggested mildly. “I replied to a talking cat last year. You greeted me in--” Akechi looked Akira up and down-- “Featherman pajamas this year.” He wrinkled his nose. “Grey Pigeon, really? You struck me as more of the Red Hawk type.”

Akira smacked him on the shoulder. Akechi laughed, a genuine, unrestrained sound that sent butterflies of the non-Persona variety wild in Akira’s stomach.

“Come inside,” Akira took his hand gently. “We have… a lot to talk about.”

=

They moved to Akira’s bedroom. Akira brought over tea, and when they finished sipping, they sat next to each other on Akira’s bed.

And then Akechi talked.

Akechi had been in a rehab center outside of Tokyo, it turned out. A shelter that he used to take his mother to when he was a child, where she would work when possible. He had also been busting out everything he could with legal teams and police information trying to get Akira out of juvie, hence his absence. He’d cut his hair a month ago, and he still wasn’t used to how short it felt.

Therapy and rehab the past few months had helped enough that he felt ready to meet everyone again-- Akira’s birthday texts to him gave him the perfect opportunity to text the others, reunite a bit, and then ask if they’d keep his surprise visit a secret. Futaba had given him Akira’s address in Inaba.

The whole time, Akira hadn’t stopped staring at Akechi, nor had he stopped holding his hand, idly running a thumb over the other boy’s knuckles.

“That’s the gist of it,” Akechi finished lamely. “Naturally, everything is still a work in progress, but… I still want to be part of your lives, as selfish as that is.”

Akira took in a deep breath. “It’s not selfish.”

“It’s a little selfish,” Akechi ignored him. “You even showed me your phone’s wallpaper and instead of repaying that debt, I purposely said nothing to avoid any attachment.”

Akira, still full of the cotton candy lovey-dovey nonsense euphoria that came with Akechi being in his house and bedroom, cocked his head in confusion. “What does the wallpaper have to do with--”

“So yeah, fair is fair,” Akechi interrupted him smoothly, pulling out his phone. “It’s been a few months, but I think I should return the favor. Here’s my home screen.”

Akira shook his head; he didn’t really care at the moment what Akechi’s wallpaper-- _wait a fucking minute._

It was a left-facing photo of Akira. His right hand was pressed lightly against aquarium glass, eyes shining upwards at the fish. His mouth was ever-so-slightly open in awe, and his whole face was bathed in pale blue light.

“This is a picture of me?” Akira’s voice cracked at the end. He looked… weirdly ethereal in the image. It was the sort of photograph that might’ve won a prize, were Akechi more inclined to entering art contests like Yusuke. “Wait, so you were acting weird at the aquarium because--”

“This is one of three pictures I rotate,” Akechi admitted, swiping through his camera gallery and showing Akira the other two pictures. “You make many interesting faces when you believe you aren’t being watched.”

The second photo was of Akira still staring up through the aquarium glass, only this time his cheeks were childishly puffed out. The third photo was once again of Akira, hardly a few moments after the second-- still standing in front of the aquarium glass, now hiding giggles behind a hand, mirthful eyes crinkled closed in quiet joy.

Akira was going to _combust._

“You--” Akira couldn’t handle the embarrassment of it all, but at the same time he was so damn _happy._ He laughed. “You’ve been rotating these pictures out like a _giant nerd_ for nearly a _full year--”_

“You’re the nerd,” Akechi tsked at him. “You make funny faces at aquarium fish when you think nobody’s looking.” He smiled. “I had thought to show you back in February when I first saw your photo of me, but I ended up not saying anything because of the situation at hand...”

They fell into comfortable silence.

“So,” Akira grinned like a lunatic.

“So,” Akechi blushed, looking with great interest at the hardwood flooring of the Kurusu family home. “I think, for what it’s worth… we both feel the same.”

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”

“W-Well, it’s not like I know what to do in these sorts of situations,” Akechi crossed his arms in defense, blatantly avoiding Akira’s gaze. “As the Detective Prince, I was given a strict ‘no-dating’ policy. Not to mention, our circumstances thus far have been completely the opposite of what anyone would consider remotely romantic, what with the shooting and betrayal and vengeance and rivalistic duelling in a supernatural metacognitive universe version of the collective public’s psyche--”

“Shut up, wallpaper boy,” Akira interrupted him with a grin. “Just kiss me.”

Akechi closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against Akira’s. Emboldened, Akira pressed back with equal force, wrapping his arms around Akechi’s neck and letting his eyes slip shut.

“I have no clue what I’m doing,” Akechi mumbled in between kisses, unable to stop himself from smiling. “Where do I put my hands--”

“I’m a kiss virgin too, Goro, don’t sweat it,” Akira reassured him, giggling as he moved Akechi’s hands-- one to Akira’s face, the other to his waist. “Goro. Goro. Gorogorogoro. Gooooorrrrrooooo.”

“Quit that, it’s embarrassing!” Akechi swatted at him fondly.

Akira kissed Akechi’s cheek, then pouted. “But your name’s so fun to say.”

“Akira,” Akechi rolled his eyes, exasperated yet fond. “You’re ridiculous.”

Akira snickered. “Yeah, well--”

“I love you,” Akechi whispered slyly, then kissed him again.

Akira stared at him, wide-eyed, then buried his face in Akechi’s shoulder with a whine. “You’re evil.”

Akechi raised a brow, amused. “We’re well past that.”

 _“Evil,_ Goro.” Akira raised his head with a laugh, then beamed. “I love you too.”

=

** totally not the phantom thieves ft. 2 part-timers **

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ Thank you for helping me, everyone.

\+ I’m considering my new boyfriend as a collective birthday present from you all.

**Jokerusu**

can’t believe you guys schemed without me 💔 +

I’m super happy though +

**running in the 90s**

\+ YOOOOOO IT WORKED?

**lesbiAnn**

\+ AWWW I’m so happy for you two!! 🥺🥰

**da vincky**

\+ You have my congratulations.

**stan buchimaru**

\+ Nice

**fluffy the terrible**

\+ How sweet :’) Congratulations!

**series 3 pink best girl**

\+ mwehehehe thank me peasant

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ Thank you, Futaba-chan.

**series 3 pink best girl**

\+ wait no the goal was humiliation

\+ hisses

**Jokerusu**

oh mona says hi btw +

[image attachment: a photo of Morgana curled up next to Akira’s leg.] +

**fluffy the terrible**

\+ MONA-CHAN! Please give him pets and kisses from me! 💕

**series 3 pink best girl**

\+ give him face pinches from me!!!!

**Jokerusu**

pets and kisses and face pinches given. he’s being tsundere about it tho +

he misses ann, haru, and futaba in that order +

he bit my ankle for specifying the order n then left +

😂 _by lesbiAnn, series 3 best girl_

**sumi(masen)re**

\+ AHH! I’m so happy for you both senpai!!!! :’D

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ Thank you again, Sumire-chan.

\+ If you hadn’t intentionally spilled the beans on his wallpaper back in February, I doubt this would’ve played out the way it did.

**sumi(masen)re**

\+ ACK! You knew it was intentional?

**Jokerusu**

wait you were trying to sound inconspicuous???? +

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ For someone whose father works at a TV station,

**running in the 90s**

\+ fuck wait i gotta give you the Don’t Hurt My Bro speech

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ your acting skills are pretty shit. no offense

**sumi(masen)re**

\+ Aww...

**fluffy the terrible**

\+ [insults you even though he also sucks at it] no offense

> 😂 _by stan buchimaru, series 3 pink best girl, running in the 90s_
> 
> 💢 _by p*ncake is a slur_

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ wait what

**running in the 90s**

\+ You better not hurt Akira! Bitch

> 👍 _by lesbiAnn, da vincky, fluffy the terrible, series 3 pink best girl, stan buchimaru_

**Jokerusu**

aww <3333333333333 +

he won’t hurt me guys! you underestimate us +

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ ...I won’t. I swear it

**running in the 90s**

\+ GOOD Akira’s my bro if you hurt him i’ll kick ur ass

**Jokerusu**

AW GORO THAT’S SO ROMANTIC… 🥺 +

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ gags /lh

**sumi(masen)re**

\+ Oh wow senpai you really are like Maruki-sensei

**Jokerusu**

sumire :/ +

i have much more fabulous hair +

and i’m not het +

and i don’t have a god complex +

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ Not sure if I love or hate that the god complex was the last thing you thought of

**Jokerusu**

you looooove me +

DONT SHOVE ME SDKLFJDSKLFDS +

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ benefits of sleepovers

**stan buchimaru**

\+ You’re both right next to each other and still texting?

\+ Well, I guess I do it with Eiko too, but…

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ It’s… surprisingly nice

\+ I’ve never done anything like it before, but it’s fun in its own way.

\+ Also: I do not “looooove” you, Akira

**Jokerusu**

you know it’s true, honey +

you even beat me to saying it first 😏+

🤯 _by lesbiAnn_

**lesbiAnn**

\+ OMG HE DID?????

\+ AKECHIIII THAT’S SGO CUTEEEE

\+ IM GRILLING U FOR DEETS LATER NEXT WEEK UR TAKING ME 4 CREPES

> 😔 _by p*ncake is a slur_

**series 3 pink best girl**

\+ he even counted out the exact number of o’s in looooove that’s so funny

**da vincky**

\+ Please, allow me to paint you both to commemorate the milestone.

\+ Such ardent admiration and passion simply must be captured on a canvas.

\+ I shall be done with it in approximately the number of years it shall take between now and your wedding.

**Jokerusu**

bless u yusuke +

i give u a million yen in commission money +

**da vincky**

\+ Nonsense. You are too kind.

\+ please wire it straight to my bank account

> 😂 _by Jokerusu_

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ Why am I friends with all of you

**series 3 pink best girl**

\+ like getting stuck with black mold lmao

**running in the 90s**

\+ sucks to suck ur one of us now

**stan buchimaru**

\+ You like it, don’t deny it.

**p*ncake is a slur**

\+ what was that? I can’t hear all of a sudden. I don’t know

\+ ...All jokes aside, I’m glad to have you all in my life.

> ❤️ _by Jokerusu, sumi(masen)re, lesbiAnn, da vincky, series 3 pink best girl, running in the 90s, fluffy the terrible, stan buchimaru_

**Jokerusu**

So am I +

I can’t imagine my life without any of you in it. +

🖤 _by p*ncake is a slur_

❤️ _by sumi(masen)re, lesbiAnn,_

 _da vincky,_ _series 3 pink best girl,_

 _running in the 90s,_ _fluffy the terrible,_

_stan buchimaru_

**sumi(masen)re**

\+ AKECHI-SAN 😭

\+ SENPAIIIII 😭

\+ I’m so thankful to both of you and to everyone here! I’m gonna cry

**series 3 pink best girl**

\+ nonono sumisumi don’t cry

\+ [pats u on the back w a broom handle]

**sumi(masen)re**

\+ 🤧Thank you, Futaba-chan!

**da vincky**

\+ As am I.

\+ I believe everyone here has had their life change for the better because we met each other and became friends.

> 🖤 _by p*ncake is a slur_
> 
> ❤️ _by Jokerusu, sumi(masen)re, lesbiAnn, series 3 pink best girl, running in the 90s, fluffy the terrible, stan buchimaru, p*ncake is a slur_

**da vincky**

\+ On a similar note... I take your newfound relationship to mean that Akira fixed his terrible photography skills?

**Jokerusu**

oh that’s right! before Goro n I go to sleep +

**Jokerusu**

[image attachment: a photo of Akira and Akechi. Akechi has a small smile, somewhat shy. Akira is grinning. Both of them have one hand held up to the other’s to form a heart.] +

🖤 _by p*ncake is a slur_

**Jokerusu**

new wallpaper! +

-

**Author's Note:**

> and then they stayed up til 2 am making out instead of maintaining good sleep schedules. the end. 
> 
> is this ooc? yeah. do i care? ha foolish never
> 
> Thank you for reading! ^^ [tumblr](http://khattikeri.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/khattikeri)


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